The War of the Great Wind
by DaphneOshiro
Summary: While Tamriel crumbles at the hands of the Elves, the flickers of a new nation are on the cusp of destruction. But it is foretold that the Lady of the Jade Boar will raise an army of men and beasts to claim Akavir for her own. Fleeing the destruction of Stros M'Kai, a corsair travels to Akavir and becomes an unwitting player in this Great Game. Rated M for smut and graphic violence
1. Prologue

_**A/N: "War of the Great Wind". Lofty title. Essentially this is a story set during the Great War (4E 171-4), in that mystical land known as the Akavir. For those who don't know, Akavir is basically TES' version of...in fact, I'll let Donald Trump explain:**_ ** _watch?v=RDrfE9I8_hs. In any case, this continent has had a lot of influence on Tamriel ( has a great article on it as well as an anthology of in-game literature on the place, if you're that keen), from the Blades to the Dovahkiin, so I figure it's time we examine a story about Akavir itself._**

 ** _I should stipulate: I made this up. Completely. Like, I used the lore available about Akavir, so it's as lore-friendly as it can be, but let me be clear that it is completely fictional (I mean yes TES is fictional too...non-canon then). Don't be thinking this is legit and like TES VI will hold any bearing to this._**

 ** _This is the introduction, where we mention very little of Akavir. If you don't like intros, please wait for the first chapter (expect v. soon), but until then, get up off your arse, sit back down in the chair you just got up from, and read it anyway because frankly it's hilarious._**

 ** _Alright, if we're all happy, let's get this show on the road._**

* * *

Sofie was angry. She had been working up the courage to ask out the cute Argonian working at the docks for nearly two months. Despite all her friends warning her off from the man, all the bullies calling her a "lizard lover", despite the fact he smelled of frost tuna, she had harboured a love for him like no other could no (she was 13 after all), and he had the gall to reject her.

"I just…don't think it'd be right."

"Mama won't mind! She's married to a Redguard, and she's banished residents for racism. I mean, my mama is the reason you can actually come into the city now!"

"No, it's not that. It's the…class issue. You're the Countess' daughter, I'm a fisherboy. It's not right for us to mix."

"This isn't the Aldmeri Dominion Icefisher! Everyone can love and marry whomever they please. Come on, you know we'd be great together."

All of this begging to no avail. She was left rejected and heartbroken. Sofie marched into Hjerim and slammed the door. Her mother was sat by the fire in some ragged robes, reading aloud a book on Dwemer history to Sparkly, her "pet" Falmer. She looked up to see her daughter's tear-logged face and stopped.

"Honey, what happ-where have you been? It's past eleven."

"I was at the dock…fucking lizards."

" _Sofie!_ "

"Oh big deal, I called them lizards. It's what they are. Scaly, slimy liz-"

"Alright, let's cut the racism a minute. What happened?"

"Okay…don't be angry but I went down to the docks to ask out Icefisher and he _rejected_ me. Me! The Dovahkiin's daughter, the Countess of Windhelm's daughter, the Justiciar of Skyrim's daughter! The richest girl in Tamriel!"

"Icefisher? You mean the pink-skinned Argonian? Works with Rikke?"

"Yes! And he said no."

"Sweetie…"

"He said it was because I'm from a higher class than him, like that matters. I mean who cares about classes anymore?"

"Sofie, darling…"

"I mean dad used to be a beggar, and you married him, even after you became Justiciar. And Lady Elisif married a barkeep! No…no, he must just think I'm ugly."

"Sofie, Icefisher…"

"Is it because I don't have boobs yet? They're gonna come. I mean look at yours. Just because that bitch Relmyna got hers early doesn't mean all of the girls in town apart from her don't exist. You know I bet that's why, he's with her. I'm going to kill that stupid red-eyed little-"

"Honey, Icefisher is gay. He's with Harald Sweynsson."

"Harald…as in my best friend Harald?"

"Yes," her mother responded, not controlling her laughter any longer. "His mother told me about a month ago".

"Oh my god…"

"That's so cute! You fell in love with an Argonian but he already had a boyfriend!" She began her signature laugh, that of a Wild Boar, and shot mead through her nose all over Sparky. He snarled and got up from the chair.

"It's not funny mama! And it's not cute, it's horrible. I'm so embarrassed."

"Sofie, sweetheart, this is not embarrassing. You aren't old enough to know true embarrassment."

"Don't try and lecture me, mama. You're Elsa Peytiiz, Countess of Windhelm, Justiciar of Free Skyrim, the richest person alive, and the Dragonborn. You're so powerful that you got to pick your own surname and no-one complains. What could ever have embarrassed you?"

"What about getting caught in bed with an Acolyte of Stendarr?"

" _What_?"

Elsa grinned. She had never told this to anyone, even though it was the most important thing that had ever happened to her.

"Okay," she grinned, motioning Sofie to the chair opposite, "so I was born on Solstheim, in a tiny little village in the Mountains. The only reason this village existed was to service the nearby Hall of the Vigilants of Stendarr. Now Solstheim is conservative enough, but add the bloody Vigilantes and you get something that Viola Giordano would call stuffy."

"I was never a good child. I think the only time I ever prayed was to a Talos shrine after I found out it was illegal. I used to steal stuff, get drunk, and get…acquainted with the local men and women of the village."

"Ew! Why?"

"Hey, you have three pets, mountains of books and thousands of Krone to spend. I couldn't read, no one could, and we didn't even have enough money for furniture. And, well, if there aren't any chairs to sit on, I may as well sit on a-"

"Mama no! That's disgusting."

"Alright, alright. So anyway, I was with my friend Hilda, and we were playing truth or dare. And Hilda was a bit of a smartarse, so she goes 'I dare you to surprise me.' I thought about it for a moment, and then the idea came to me: defile a man of the gods."

"I go to her 'Hold my beer, watch this,' and lead her to the Vigilantes hall and spy this young Acolyte, no more than 15. I go over and work my magic, and it doesn't take long before he's mine. We go to the stable and start…doing the bidding of Lady Dibella"

"Oh my god…part of me is grossed out but another part of me is impressed."

"You haven't heard the punchline yet: this boy had taken his previous vow of celibacy seriously, and as a result it wasn't exactly a long drawn out affair. Plus he was loud, louder than me by a long way, which attracted attention. The shepherd came in, despite Hilda's best efforts to stop him, and was so shocked to see a priest with a believer down on her knees that he dropped his torch, which promptly burned the stable down. I've got the scars to prove it."

Elsa told all this to her adopted progeny with glee and sparkle, and she listened intently with awe. Her mother had always been a magical character, positive and full of life, but something like this, which would have left most Nords contemplating suicide with shame, left her stronger and happier, something which amazed Sofie.

"So what happened?"

"Well, he was banished from the order, permanently. But I think he did okay in the end, moved to Chorrol as a bookshop owner. I was sentenced to death for adultery, but I was given the option of permanent banishment from the town, which I took. So, the following day, Hilda (she came with me because she thought it was her fault) and I said our goodbyes, and left for Vvardenfell. Now, _that_ was embarrassing."

Sofie laughed, "Yeah, mama. That's actually made me feel a lot better. Hey, can you tell me about you and Hilda in Vvardenfell? That must have been so cool!"

"Soph, Vvardenfell is a story for when you're older. It's a bit too…graphic for you."

"And that story wasn't? Come on mama, please?"

"No, not until you're an adult. I'll tell you what, I'll tell you a much better story. You get ready for bed and then come back here."

* * *

Sofie walked out of her room in her bedclothes back to the fireplace. Her mother had two frosted cups with white and gold liquid. She offered her daughter a glass. Sofie sat down and smelled the drink.

"Alcohol? You're letting me drink?"

"Better now than later. I don't want Brunwulf trying to harden you up with Black Briar Reserve. Try it, it's cream, homemade spiced mead, and some floral hints. The 'White Gold Tower'."

Sofie sipped, and coughed as is custom with new drinkers. After a moment of spluttering, she smiled.

"I like this."

"Don't like it too much, it's got a kick. Now, the story. Ever heard of Akavir?"

"Yeah. Uncle Esbern talks about it all the time."

"I know…but not properly. He only knows about Akavir of the olden days. Akavir still exists, and in fact had a revolution just recently."

"Like the Liberation War?"

Elsa laughed and sipped her cream cocktail, "In a manner of speaking. This war was bigger though, much bigger, and much more exciting. They call it the War of the Great Wind, because of…well that would spoil the end, but this war makes the Liberation War look like a minor skirmish."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, the losses we sustained were peanuts compared to the dead in Akavir. But, our story doesn't start there. Our story starts in Hammerfell, at Port Mashriq, with a young, dashing corsair called Samatar."

* * *

 _ **The beginning of something special, hopefully. Please favourite and follow and all that good stuff. - C.A.D.**_


	2. Ain't that a Kick in the Head?

_**A/N: Yeah, I'm quoting song lyrics for my titles, get mad. This is the first chapter of the real thing: I followed the Ross Rule of five plus pages including an "exciting incident". Just as a general point: this isn't an exact "narration" by Elsa, obviously, but she and Sofie do interrupt the flow from time to time, mainly for humour, but also for clarification. They're divided by lines and made italic, so unless you're really stupid you shouldn't fail to notice the excerpts. If you have questions, comments, please contact me however you want.**_

 _ **Alright, if you're ready, avanza:**_

"Passport please. Mhm, alright. You with the Alik'r?"

"What do you think?"

"Don't get smart with me. Not all of you dress like nomads. Are you or not?"

"I'm not Alik'r, I'm a trader. I want to board a boat to sell my wares, not assassinate one of your ship captains."

"Alright, what are you selling?"

"A few gemstones, some swords, fine clothes, silverware-"

The exchange between the Redguard and the desk official was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat.

"Oh, and him."

"You're selling a slave? You need a permit."

"Bullshit I need a permit. Slavery is illegal in the Empire, they won't make permits for illegal activity."

"Exactly, so hand over some coin or I call the guards."

Samatar snarled and forked over 100 gold. The lady looked at the pile of coins and looked back, hand still outstretched. Samatar forked over 100 more gold. Still she was unsatisfied. Samatar growled and threw 100 more gold at her face. She smiled and stamped his passport.

Samatar dragged the bound and collared slave to the centre of the port. Despite this area's unimportance for trade, the harbour was still large enough to accommodate six large ships, and provide a large stone seating area, covered to protect travellers from the desert heat. The pair sat down, and Samatar removed his prisoner's hood.

"Hey, this isn't Stros M'Kai…"

"Wow, he has a brain. No, it isn't Stros M'Kai. The Aldmeri Dominion sacked the place about a week before we got there. This was the nearest way out of Hammerfell."

"This war is getting more serious than I ever thought it would. High Elves in Hammerfell?"

"It's only been a year. They'll tire out, the elves aren't ones for concerted effort."

"Oh, you're an expert on Elven phylogeny now?"

"Come on Ogrumbumph, you know full well that an Altmer has the same drive as a three legged cat. This war will be over in a few weeks, I bet."

"Is that what the Countess of Bravil said before she was flayed and hanged over her sacked city by Khajiit militia?"

"Funny point. No substance, but funny."

"You haven't seen what these elves can do, Samatar…"

"And you have? You've lived in Orsinium all your life, before it was razed. The one elf you've seen got ripped in half by that Frost Troll I saved you from."

"Saved me? You captured me as a slave!"

"Yeah, but I didn't kill you. That's a damn sight better than most pirates. Anyway, where do you want to go?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I need to sell you, so you should at least get the opportunity to pick the province."

"Summerset Isle."

"Funny. Just because they kill all Redguards at the border doesn't mean they won't kill you either."

"It's either there or traipsing through the desert again. Nowhere except Alinor and Hammerfell still have slavery. You're call."

"Fuck the desert. I can't bear to see more sand."

"Alinor it is."

"I can't bear to be executed either."

"Well you're just going to have to free me."

"I'll cut my testicles off and eat them before that day comes. I'm going to go get a snack, want anything?"

"Honey Nut Kebab if there are any."

"Pretentious arse."

Samatar got up and tied Ogrumbumph's hands to the armrest of the chair. The waiting room of the port had a few stalls and vestibules selling food and water to guests. Samatar walked over to the quietest one and asked for a kebab and a Windhelm Boiled Cake.

He downed the cake in one bite (Skyrim's fattening delicacy was his true Achilles' heel), and as he wiped the cream and sugar from his face, he heard shouts from a Dunmer crier.

"Akavir! Trips to Akavir! Visit Serica, Wa, Pot! The famous Ditch-upon-the-Sea, the Harbour of Incense, the Orange Wall of Gop! All of this and more in Akavir!"

Samatar walked over, his interest piqued: "Hey, did you say something about Akavir?"

"That's right! A trip to the Orient is available now, with us: the Happy Trails Ferry Service! This is the only service to Akavir in the whole of Tamriel, so this is your only chance to see the magical Land of Dragons."

"What's in Akavir?"

" _What's in Akavir?_ My dear boy, what _isn't_ in Akavir? In Akavir, you will find fresh grown food, mysterious locales, and treasures as-of-yet unlooted. But keep your wits about you, because you'll find more than a few exotic critters and inhospitable locales, so-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah," Samatar snapped, "do they buy slaves?"

"Slaves? Oh yes, at a high price too. Especially if whom you're selling is say a Nord or an Orc, as they need hardy workers for their terracotta sculptures."

"Excellent. Ticket to Akavir please!"

"You haven't heard about prices yet…"

"I'm sure I can afford it."

"3,600 Septims, up front."

"Okay, maybe I can't. How do you expect me, or anyone, to pay that?"

"It's all necessary; the trip to Akavir is long, and the waters dangerous. We need to charge highly to afford the protection for our ships."

Samatar looted his pockets and bags to see how much money he could get together. After five minutes of searching he mustered a mere 1876 gold coins.

"Okay, this is more than half. Can't I pay you the second half when we get to Akavir and I sell my slave? I'll be able to get you five thousand then, if what you say is true about their need for Orcs."

"I'm sorry but we can't just-"

"Arvel, what's going on?" A Nord woman approached the two, holding a piece of mutton in her hand. She eyed up Samatar and smiled a certain smile. "And who's this?"

"Sorry ma'am, I was just telling this man that he can't get in without the full amount for a ticket."

"Oh I'm sure it will be fine. What's your name, Redguard?"

"Samatar, my lady."

"Oh I'm far from a lady…"

"I'm sure I'll find that out the hard way…"

"This is Captain Njada Stone-Fist. She's running the expedition."

"I am indeed, and you should come, Redguard"

"Is it I who should come, Madame Njada?"

* * *

" _Wait, wait. Mama, there's no way that there was this much flirting," interrupted Sofie_

" _It's a story, not an exact account."_

" _It's starting to sound like a romantic novel…"_

" _Alright," sighed the Dovahkiin, "we'll skip ahead a little."_

* * *

"So, how much money do you have?" Njada asked, twirling her blonde locks.

"1876 Septims exactly."

"That will do, we leave in an hour."

"But Captain! That's barely half of the cost for the ticket."

"Samatar here is a corsair, he'll no doubt make up for it by working a little on the ship. Now, grab your things and head out to the boat. It's the 'Marie Helena', the large ship with the weeping Dunmer figurehead."

"I'll see you there, then."

* * *

" _Wait, how did Njada know he was a corsair?"_

" _Well you would have heard if you'd let me complete the flirting. It was some joke about whether or not he was a carpenter and was therefore good at drilling."_

" _There's no way this is true…"_

" _Shut up and enjoy the story."_

* * *

"Hey, greenskin! We're leaving. Pack your things."

"So, Alinor it is? I'll prepare my neck for the noose."

"Nope. Akavir!"

" _What?_ "

Samatar had seen many things in his short life, all across Tamriel. But he'd never seen an Orc with fear in their eyes. Even in death, Orcs don't show fear. It's their final "bite me" to a world so cruelly biased against them, those eyes animated with anything but fear. But Ogrumbumph gro-Gholfim was scared. The word "Akavir" paled his lime skin and widened his bloodied eyes. He began to fidget and sweat.

"Yeah, apparently it's some continent to the East. Far away, but they buy for high prices for Tamriel slaves. Plus, it's an adventure."

"Samatar, we cannot go there."

He raised an eyebrow on his dark face; "Since when do you get to decide where I can go?"

"Samatar, I obviously cannot force you not to take me but I beg you reconsider. Akavir is a dangerous, godforsaken place."

"What, and Tamriel isn't? Half of Cyrodiil is under control of elves, the Reach has been taken by primitive hill peoples, and Morrowind is a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Ogrumbumph, your home, Orsinium, was burned to the ground but weeks ago, everyone killed. How could Akavir be any worse?"

"Evil works in that land, Samatar. It infests everything. The sea is polluted with monsters and malevolent spirits, the wilds patrolled by hideous beasts and wraiths. And the people, the races, they are savage and cruel, and will kill you the moment you step on their land. There is a reason Uriel Septim V left Akavir so quickly after Ionith: the East is too savage an animal."

Samatar walked over and removed the binds around the arm rest.

"All the more reason to go: an animal is only as savage as its trainer is weak."

* * *

The 1876 gold had bought the pair two separate cabins. Samatar had proposed throwing the Orc in the cargo hold "with the rest of the freight", but Njada insisted he have a small place to rest his head. What's more, she removed all his chains aside from the slave collar, to loosen his sunburnt joints. Samatar was so enamoured with the captain that he did this willingly, all to Ogrumbumph's benefit. He smiled as he thought on that on his bed.

He did surprisingly well on ships, given his heritage. Orcs were many things, but sailing was never one for the Pariah Folk. There was an old Orc saying; "You can't direct the wind, so why invent the sails?" which summed up their thoughts on the matter quite well.

Ogrumbumph lay back on his cheap bed and read through the only book he managed to find: "The Lusty Argonian Maid". A classic of Imperial literature. Not because it's particularly well written, he mused, but because of the date. It came out but six years before the Oblivion Crisis, and the subsequent collapse of Septimate Cyrodiil. In the period of civil strife where cities fought each other and villages were razed, this bawdy comedy raised everyone's spirit. This has left the perverted Crassius Curio being celebrated as one of the greatest authors and playwrights. Ogrumbumph was no snob, he saw value in cheap smut, and chuckled along for a while.

After a few acts though, he was bored, so he pulled out the only thing he had left in this world to use –

* * *

" _Oh my god mama! Stop with the smut!"_

" _Wha…oh no, you pervert. His journal."_

* * *

" _23rd Frostfall, 4E 172_

 _Well, life has been good to me, but it seems Arkay is to pay me a visit soon. See, Samatar, my captor, has been sold the great idea of travelling to Akavir to sell me. All it took was promises of treasure and a pair of tits. I respect the man, more than I should care to admit, but women are a great weakness of his. And men, I'd wager. He needs a wife to keep him steady. He'd either be the most adulterous husband there was, or the most loyal. I can only hope who ever flips that coin lands on his good side._

 _In the meantime, he'll carry on losing power to attractive maidens. He's up there giving the captain one in her cabin no doubt. How you can do it on a boat is beyond me. The captain's in for a treat. Based on the sounds (I was blindfolded) of the girls he entertained while we were travelling across Hammerfell, he is talented. I wouldn't know what makes someone talented, but whatever it is, he's got it. Hopefully the Akaviri agree, that way he may be able to whore his way across the continent._

 _In the event I make it to Akavir and survive the first day, I may stay there. I mean, I will stay while captive, but after I escape (I will escape, I could bend this slave collar into an origami bird), I may buy a house in the country. I may have too: Tamriel is falling. Apparently Stros M'Kai fell some days ago to the Aldmeri Dominion, burned to the ground. Hammerfell and the Aldmeri Dominion won't take Orcs, Morrowing is inhospitable, even for me, and Skyrim's Nords may let us in, but I have no desire to be a second-class citizen to a hill tribe of hairy mead swilling barbarians worshipping a genocidal colonist._

 _In any case, it'll be nice to fight again. Somehow, I feel Samatar won't be able to sell me as easily as he thought, and we'll have to fight together. We would work well. That is, so long as the bandits don't have tits._ "

Ogrumbumph chuckled at himself. He signed off and headed out to the cantina, to mingle with the rest of the lower class travellers.

* * *

Ogrumbumph was right. Samatar had been pounding the captain in her quarters for some time. He finished his business after a while and pulled up his trousers. She breathed heavily and then laughed a little. He opened the window and began to roll a cigarette;

"Why are you laughing?" he chuckled, striking a match unsuccessfully.

"Because I was told that the greatest thing in the world was family."

"Why is that funny?"

"Because," she smirked, getting up and wrapping her arms around him from behind, "it's a lie. The greatest thing in the world was what you just did to my ass." Samatar laughed at her, and he struck another match. It broke and fell into the sea.

"Here, let me." Njada lit a small fire off her pinkie and lit the cigarette.

"A Nord mage? Now I've seen everything…"

"I'm hardly a mage, I just learnt a few spells. My brother and I used to play fight, but Galmar was much bigger than me, so I needed something to fight him off."

"I thought I'd heard your name before. You're Galmar Stone-Fist's sister. Commander of Imperial Forces in Skyrim."

"And not a very good one. He's managed to lose half of Skyrim's land and the Altmer aren't even there. They haven't even got past Bruma!"

"Hey lay off the guy, he's better than most Imperials."

"That's like saying you have a bigger cock than most women. Sheep led by more incompetent sheep, the lot of them."

"Are you not going to put some clothes on? It's a little cold."

"Says you, you're topless."

"Yeah, but you're naked."

"I'm a Nord, we can handle the cold."

Samatar smiled and puffed on his fag. He headed over to the table to get away from the cold wind and saw a map of Akavir in all its glory. It was big, varied, and intimidating.

"Ever been before?"

"No, this is my first time."

"Never forget your first time. You'll like it. Mountains of gold, and even more women. Horny, too."

"Where could I sell the Orc?"

"You're best bet would be to go to the capital of Serica, usefully named "Capital City". There's a huge slave market for rich Tsaeci noblemen who want to take their goods back to their more rural and picturesque home."

"What's a Tsaeci?"

Njada raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you really know nothing about Akavir. Alright, pull up a chair, I'll do my best to explain."

"Akavir is a huge continent, bigger than Tamriel, but we can still divide it by nation. These islands, Wa, are run by the "Tsaeci", a snake people."

"Like Argonians?"

"No. They cannot breathe underwater, nor do they have legs. They are snakes with arms, essentially. They tend not to wear armour and fight with short swords."

"Oh, well, they should be easy to fight…"

"You'd think. This wee circle is where they originated. They currently run all of these islands, and all of this part of the Mainland, called Serica. The only bit from this area they don't rule is the Tang Mo, a group of 1,000 tiny islands where tribal monkeys live. They're harmless and very receptive."

"Okay, what about all of this desert and snowy area up here?"

"This is the land of the Po'Tun, or Ka Po'Tun if you're one of them. It's mostly steppe and taiga, with a little desert plains thrown in, and many people think they live as primitive nomads, but they never say this to their face: their 20-foot tall tigers. Very violent, very intelligent, very anti-human…I don't think a human has ever visited their lands in fact. Oh, and they're led by a King called Tosh Raka, who apparently has turned into a dragon. That's unconfirmed, but he has been alive for 200 years, so he's doing something right."

"Alright, and this place?"

"Ah yes, Pot. It's mostly mountain and icy plains, like Skyrim but worse. There you have a few surface colonies, but most of the life is in the mountains. The Kamal, Snow Demons, live there and bide their time till summer, as they need the Sun's full nourishment to survive outside. During winter they use magicks to stay healthy underground. They are perhaps the most normal of all the Akaviri kingdoms in terms of disposition, but still more aggressive than anything in Tamriel. The highest mountain in the world, Mount Ulpius, is there, and no-one has ever climbed it."

"Um, and where are the kingdoms of men?"

"Men? There are no kingdoms of men in Akavir. Men are spread across the continent, but in Serica they are slaves of the Tsaeci, and in Pot they are but mere ice nomads and fishermen."

"There are no kingdoms of men? How?"

"The tigers beat them back to the coast and then the snakes bombarded said coast with their navy. They had to accept the rule of the Tsaeci."

"Men…ruled by beasts…it's not right."

"Come on, enough talk," she said, grabbing at his crotch. "It's a long way to Akavir from here…"

* * *

"Hey, Orc. Come sit with us: we have a bet to settle."

Ogrumbumph shuffled over and sat down around the small campfire on the deck.

"Is that safe? On a wooden ship?"

"Orintur is trained in frost magic; there's no issue. Anyway, my friend and I have five gold on whether we can guess your backstory. Care to settle this?"

The slave sighed, "Fine, but the loser has to forfeit their mutton chop."

"You're on. So, I think you are a bandit chief, hence the muscles and the beard, operating in Cyrodiil, hence the tan. You were operating in occupied Cyrodiil, which is why you could be enslaved without the Imperials getting wind of it, and your bandit posse was presumably hiding out in one of the Ayleid Ruins in that area."

"Alright. And you? What do you think?"

"See, I agree on location: you must have been seized in Leyawiin or around that area, but I think you were a legionnaire, maybe a legate, and were captured by the Thalmor. They didn't want to deal with the paperwork, so sold you to the Redguard you're travelling with. Am I right, or am I right?"

"You're both wrong. I'm from High Rock. The Redguard captured me after I was ambushed by a Frost Troll. Mutton chops please."

"Damn," the pair said in unison. They handed over their food and Ogrumbumph cheerfully chowed down some sustenance.

"What brings you to Akavir?" he asked them.

"Fame and fortune. There's nothing left for us in Cyrodiil. We're from the Reach in Skyrim, you see, but unlike most Reachmen we don't support Madanach and the rebels. We know if we stayed we'd be put to death as soon as the Empire wins the war and returns to Skyrim, so we've decided to pick up a blade and adventure."

"And you pick Akavir for your first adventure? Wouldn't you like something slightly safer for a first foray, such as a Plane of Oblivion, or the Ashlands?"

"Oh come on. I'm sure we'll be fine. Akavir might be foreign, but it's hosted man for longer than Tamriel, so they must be doing something right…and there it is!"

* * *

" _Wait! It took them half a day's travel on a boat to get to Akavir? If it's so close why have so few people visited?"_

" _No, it's a month long journey, and that's if the winds are good. But I figured you didn't want me to tell you their daily schedule for a month. Now shut up and drink your mead; we're getting to a good bit."_

* * *

"That doesn't look so bad, does it Orc?"

"Well…no, but that's the entrance port. It's not exactly going to-"

Ogrumbumph was cut off by a huge explosion to the east. The dusk filled sky was lit up by a pillar of flame emerging from a large war frigate. Flanked by two smaller sailboats, the listing warship continued to fire cannonade at the offending party: a cutter flotilla headed by a corvette. Their small size allowed them to dart along the waves, dodging cannonballs and fire arrows from the larger, fleet ships.

"What the…I didn't know the Empire and the Dominion were fighting this far east."

"That isn't the Dominion, the ships are too small. Those are Tsaeci raiding boats. It seems that there's a war going on," Ogrumbumph mused.

"You're very calm, Orc. Are you sure you weren't in the army?"

"I'm sure," he laughed. "There's just no cause to worry. They're not going to attack us."

Just then, the flotilla split off, with the lead corvette and two cutters surrounding the weakened frigate and its support ships, and four cutters charging the ferry.

"Hmph…so I was wrong…RUN!" Ogrumbumph shouted. The passengers began to scramble from the deck as cannonade began to rain down from the cutters. A refugee family from Bravil crushed by a huge cannonball launched from the lead cutter, a sellsword from Mournhold pierced by a crossbow bolt, a merchant from Chorrol burned alive by a fire started by the fighting. It was chaos.

Ogrumbumph sped down the stairs to his cabin and grabbed his journal and a small kitchen knife he found on the floor. He made for one of the lifeboats at the stern of the boat, but the floor collapsed before him, blocking his way. " _Samatar_ ", he thought to himself, and headed back up the ship to find his owner.

Back on deck, fires raged across, claiming the refugees too sick to run. By now, Akaviri soldiers, men led by their reptilian masters, had boarded and were variously slaughtering the fleeing civilians. The men were poorly dressed and equipped, with a hodgepodge of farm equipment and village clothing serving as weapons and armour. What's more, none it seems had seen an Orc before, so cowered and screamed in fear when they saw the chained green monster emerge from below decks. Ogrumbumph charged a few, snapping their necks and bludgeoning those few who fought back.

The Tsaeci marine leading the charge slithered forth, unafraid, and drew his sword. The stories about the beautiful, golden scaled serpent men of the Orient were true: his upper body was that of a slender, elven man, his lower a golden viper. He smiled and batted his tongue at the Orc, inviting him for a challenge. The Orc charged forward with an eye to tear it from his mouth, but the lumbering brute was too slow for this snake. The Tsaeci darted around him like a mosquito, leaving little love bites with his sword all over Ogrumbumph's body.

Eventually, the Tsaeci grew bored, and dug the sword into his knee, slashed his chest, and then dug it into his shoulder. Ogrumbumph screamed and fell to his knees. His vision began to blur as the Tsaeci smiled and bared his fangs, ready to feed.

Just then, a hand reached from behind the officer and grabbed at the scaled corner of its forehead. With one brutal pull, the animal's skin was torn from its face. It began to scream in agony and horror, but only briefly, as that same hand drew a dagger and slit the lizard's throat, spilling green blood everywhere. The gargling corpse was dropped on the floor, revealing a stained, smiling Samatar.

"Second time I've saved you. Get up."

"Where's Njada?"

"Dead. Come on, we need to go."

Samatar pulled Ogrumbumph up and they ran across the deck to the lifeboats. All ablaze. Just then, the fire in the ship spread to the cargo hold, which must have been carrying fire salts, as it caused a huge explosion. The ship broke in two began to fill with seawater. Before either of them could react, one of the crew of the cutter abreast them fired a crossbow bolt at Samatar, piercing his stomach and forcing him back. The power of the shot had him recoil and lose balance, falling down the newly created gap between the two parts of the ship. Ogrumbumph called after him, to no avail.

Samatar fell down into the sea, the rough waves claiming him as their own. His wounded body was carried away from the burning wreckage of the Marie Helena, his fate now out of his hands.

A ruder welcome to a nation of the East there has never been.

 ** _A/N: Dun dun dun. So Samatar's dead and Ogrumbumph has a sword in his shoulder on a burning boat. Is this the end? Find out in the second chapter, which kind of proofs that it isn't but oh well._**


End file.
